63-Year-Old Eleanor Eldridge Adopts a Stray Dog in the Haunted Maine Woods, Uncovering a $4 Million Estate Sabotage and the Ghostly Truth About Her Husband's 'Dead' Brother.
Victoria’s manicured hand remained on the doorknob, her posture rigid as a statue carved from ice. Garrett Pine, the appraiser, fidgeted beside her, a thick leather briefcase clutched tight.
“You really won’t sign, Eleanor?” Victoria’s voice was low, a silken threat. “You’d rather watch everything Arthur and you have simply… vanish?”
I felt the phantom weight of Barnaby’s head against my leg, his silent presence a stubborn anchor. The image of the red truck, the hound’s mournful howl – it pulsed in my mind.
“I won’t be bullied, Victoria,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. My knuckles were white where I gripped the kitchen counter.
Victoria’s lips thinned, a flash of something cold and utterly ruthless in her eyes. “Then you will see,” she said, her gaze sweeping past me to the small, cozy living room. “You will see what happens when you cross me.”
She turned abruptly, pulling Garrett Pine with her. The front door closed with a soft, final click, leaving only the scent of her expensive perfume and the faint echo of a promise of ruin.
My breath hitched. My hands trembled as I walked to the window, watching her sleek black sedan disappear down the driveway.
Arthur was still in the study, oblivious to the confrontation. I couldn’t tell him, not yet. Not when his heart was still recovering from the stress of a year ago.
I picked up the phone, my fingers fumbling for the familiar numbers of the county administration office. I needed answers, something concrete, something to fight back with.
The clerk on the other end, a polite young woman named Brenda, listened patiently as I explained my vague concern about a property dispute. I asked about land records, specifically about forestry tax exemptions in the Echo Woods area.
“There’s been a lot of those lately,” Brenda commented, her voice flat. “For isolated cabins, mostly. Timberland preservation, they claim.”
She pulled up the digital files. “I can only give you general public records, ma’am. But yes, there’s a significant waiver granted for a plot deep in Echo Woods. Very substantial.”
“Who signed off on it?” I asked, my heart beginning to pound.
A pause. “Let’s see… Garrett Pine. Same name on quite a few of these exemptions, actually. He’s a registered land appraiser and notary for the county.”
Garrett Pine. The man who had just stood in my living room, clutching a briefcase, an accessory to Victoria’s threats.
A chill snaked down my spine. The red pickup truck, the isolated cabin in the woods, the suspicious tax waiver—and Garrett Pine, Victoria’s accomplice, linking them all. The pieces clicked into place, forming a dark, unsettling picture.
This wasn’t just about a will. This was about land, and the twisted ways people kept it. I thanked Brenda, my mind racing. The cabin. I had to find that cabin.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours